


Mobile Areas

by Snootiegirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Foreplay, M/M, Metaphors, mobile phones, sensuous touches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snootiegirl/pseuds/Snootiegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are modern men. They both use mobile smartphones for call, text, and web. They also use their phones as a means of connecting with one another on a whole different level.  Here, the story of how mobile usage between them becomes a dance of foreplay. Through borrowing, touching, describing, using, abusing, tracking, and charging their mobiles, John and Sherlock learn the language of their own connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mobile Areas

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is an idea that's been percolating, waiting patiently for my other Sherlock series to break through it's block and be finished. So here it is!
> 
> Think about how much they use phones and how much phones figure into their cases. Loads of fodder for fanfiction.

"Here, use mine" was the beginning. The beginning of their association. The beginning of their connection.

After John left Bart's the day he first met Sherlock, he reached into his pocket to touch the object that had been handled by those long violinist's fingers. He imagined that he could still feel the warmth left there.

Without further thought, he started to caress the smooth surface of the mobile back with his thumb the way he had caressed many smooth, soft cheeks in the past. But it wasn't smooth cheeks that came to mind. It was slightly rougher and definitely sharp cheeks that occupied his mind's eye.

The cab John sat in jostled him a bit. The roads were pocked from the winter weather. He grabbed onto his seatbelt with his unoccupied hand and tightened the one around the mobile, careful to still cradle it enough for protection.

The mobile that had touched Sherlock was now an even more prized possession.

John closed his eyes and called up the memories of that morning. Limping along, hearing Mike call his name, taking a walk into Bart's. Then those eyes. That silhouette. That tongue. John shifted in his seat, momentarily over-warmed by the memory of that voice emanating from that man.

Sensuous. That's what that voice was. Made to seduce.

When the small vibrations of his mobile made themselves known, sending a shiver through his own fingertips and straight to his core, he took a deep breath to steady himself. Lifting the mobile from his pocket, he was disappointed to see a text reminder of his next therapy session. He frowned at the traitorous screen.

He didn't want his thoughts and memories of Sherlock, what a name!, sullied by his own weaknesses. He didn't want to be reminded of his own weaknesses. Sherlock had immediately known that John was a potential flat mate. And he hadn't shied away from John, the broken-down ex-Army doctor. On the contrary, he had deemed John to be acceptable.

John smiled despite himself. He was very much looking forward to the next afternoon.

\----------

Deduction.

Everything.

Sherlock knew John's recent life story based on deductions he made from the very mobile that John had fondled frequently in the past twenty-four hours. Luckily, he made no mention of said fondling if he could tell from the minute difference in surface texture or the temperature of the case.

John had never before in his life wished to be an inanimate object. Why would he? As carnal as his life of medicine and war was, there was nothing about things that could compare to the sensations of being human. But now, Sherlock was opening him up to a whole new world of sensation through the device of that--device.

John felt his pelvic floor muscles twitch as Sherlock ran a long finger over the slot where Harry had scuffed the case with her drunken attempts at plugging her mobile into the charger. What would those fingers feel like running softly over my slots, he wondered. Would the pads of those fingers feel like someone who had never worked manual labor a day in his life or would there be a rougher texture of a man who liked to have his hands on his work.

Perhaps he would work up some texture from having his hands on me, John hoped.

When Sherlock handed the mobile back to John, John took a moment to rub his own hands over the same spots that Sherlock had touched, had marked with memory and possibly a little discernible scent.

John tucked the mobile away like a secret to be kept safe. The secret next to his heart in his coat's interior pocket. He had known that mobiles were instruments of convenience, safety, business, and communication. He had not known that they could also be instruments of seduction, lust, and painful longing.

He longed for Sherlock to press his buttons and swipe at his screen. John was a creature of touch after all.

 

\----------

This time, their hands brushed. And John's skin tingled even more furiously than earlier when he had merely touched the same inanimate object as this mad, beautiful, brilliant man. He had to turn away to keep the blush crawling up his neck and cheeks from embarrassing him.

But Sherlock didn't seem to notice John's physiological response.

When John looked back to the couch and its occupant, Sherlock had the mobile folded between his hands like he was offering up a prayer to some pagan god of hedonism as he discussed archenemies and bribe money. The sight stirred John again.

Interesting that this man had summoned him half-way across the city to use the same mobile he had borrowed the day before and then used to unlock all of John earlier in the cab to a crime scene. What would it be like to live in this man's orbit?

Then the spell was momentarily broken. Sherlock had John use his mobile to text a serial killer. He had taken the symbol of their burgeoning connection and profaned it. Used it to touch darkness.

Turns out, this was also part of being in Sherlock's circle. The desirable and the undesirable mixed together until you sometimes forgot which was which. His magic tricks, his sleight of hand with their relationship was part and parcel of accepting Sherlock into your life. John felt the taste of it in his mouth that night as he typed the text Sherlock dictated.

Grimly, he wrestled with himself as he sat in the overstuffed chair. Was it worth the pain and suffering he would undoubtedly endure with a man as mercurial as this one? But he knew it was pointless to even consider one option over the other. He had already fallen. He had given up the control of his own life when he had answered that text.

Come if convenient.

Could be dangerous.

It's not like John could claim to have been uninformed.

\-----------

Damn him, John thought as he sped along in a taxi, desperately tracking Sherlock through the pink mobile. What was he thinking, getting into a vehicle with a serial killer? He's mad!

Well, yeah, that's also part of his charm, he had to admit.

Once again, the link between them was stretched thin across a mobile network. Somehow, John knew that Sherlock would suspect the doctor would follow him. That's how strong the connection had already grown.

Four bars of service.

And here was John, zeroing in on Sherlock's location, providing the convenience, safety, and even business services he needed. John found him. John killed the threat. John called the Met. Case closed.

As John waited for Sherlock to finish with Lestrade, he checked his phone messages. Text from Harry asking what he was doing. Text from Stamford asking how things were progressing with Sherlock. Text from his therapist reminding him to update his blog.

He opened a new text to all three of them.

 _I'm good. Found a new flat and flatmate. Sherlock is an interesting companion. I'll have a lot to blog about from here on out. Don't you worry about John Watson_.


End file.
